How Unlucky can a pilot be
by j3of25
Summary: Tag to season 4 episode 2 Uskerty so spoilers for that episode. Martin was soaked, stung by bees, fell out of a tree and got covered in goose droppings and given he is the unlukiest man alive what are the chances that there are no complications? Douglas and Carolyn may yet regret how they treated him because those complications may be the most serious MJN have had to deal with
1. Chapter 1

**Just how unlucky can a pilot be?**

Cabin Pressure tag to season 4 episode 2 Uskerty, because I don't think Martin got enough sympathy for all his pains

Disclaimer:- Just an homage to a brilliant series and cast. All rights belong to the brilliant Mr John Finnemore and the BBC.

**Part one **

"Come on, come on," Carolyn bussled, "We haven't got all day you know."

"I think you'll find," Douglas oused in his usual supercilious tones, "that since it is now 7.30 am, having been forced to spend the night in Back of Beyond airport, that we do, in fact, have all day. We have until dusk to get out of this place, and, unless you wish to go on another adventure with Martin maybe get him to swim across a river, feed his lucky rabbits foot, the only thing his dearly departed grandmother ever gave him to a passing cow on a cattle truck, and then walk around the local roads in the rain, as long as you're not planning any of that. Are you? No, then I think we should be able to manage it."

"That's interesting." Arthur said cheerfully, not that he ever said anything uncheerfully, even at 7.30 am.

"What, and I know I'm going to regret asking this," Douglas asked, "is interesting."

"Another airport called 'back of beyond' airport. There are an awful lot of airports with that name it must be a very popular placename."

"A lot of airports Arthur?"

"Yes we've been to 17 in the last two years alone and I don't know before that because I wasn't really counting, but then one day we were walking through another 'back of beyond' airport and I remember thinking that there were an awful lot of them and that maybe I should try counting them to see how many there were so I did and this is number 17. Why do you think they call them all that? It doesn't seem like a very good name for an airport to me."

"No, Arthur, you're quite right it's not a good name at all, can't think why 'they' would name them that at all. Can you Carolyn?"

"Yes I can Arthur. They call them that because they are in remote or godforsaken parts of the world that no one in their right mind would want to fly to unless they had to. In which case 'back of beyond' is a very appropriate name."

"Yes that's right," Douglas added, "No one would want to fly there unless they had some particularly good reason, like the purchase of a stuffed sheep with which to torment a loved one, for example."

"Douglas," Carolyn said with a warning tone in her voice. There was a short pause "and Herc is not a loved one, that would imply. . ."

"Imply what?" Douglas asked with feigned innocence.

"Imply that it's none of your business," Carolyn continued haughtily, "Now can we please get on the plane and get out of 'back of beyond' no 17 please."

"Yes certainly we. . ." Douglas broke off as the door to Gertie was opened by MJNs other pilot "My God Martin, even by yesterday's low standards you look awful."

"Yes, well sleeping in damp clothes on a plane while babysitting a live goose isn't as restful as you might think." Martin replied, "So if you're all quite ready, I've filed the flight plan done the walk round, stowed the sheep, and there's a sentence I never thought I would say, and I'm ready to get out of here."

"OK good but. . ." Carolyn paused "Are you sure you're all right Martin? You really do look awful you know."

"Yes Skip," Arthur added as though he were delivering a compliment. "You really are an awfully peculiar colour."

"Yes, well luckily for all of you my state of health is not a concern since Douglas will be operating this flight. So if we could get going." Martin turned and no one missed the slight mis-step and wobble as he made his way to the Cabin. Carolyn and Douglas exchanged concerned glances while Arthur furrowed his brow. He may be an idiot but even he knew that there was something more than just a dodgy night's sleep wrong with their Captain.

"Post-take off checks complete," Douglas stated. "Balance fuel please."

There was an altogether too long pause before a croaky sigh of "fuel tanks balanced," came from Martin

Douglas looked across, noting the slight shake in Martin's hand as he withdrew it back to the control column. "Look if you're not feeling well I can manage this as a solo Martin, I mean Kilkenny to Fitton is not the longest of flights and. . ."

"Yes, fine." Martin interrupted taking Douglas by surprise. He had expected more of a fight, more than that he was worried that there wasn't more of a fight.

"Gosh, you must be feeling bad to just give in like that, I expected. . ."

"Yes, well CAA regulations state that. . .they state. . ." Martin closed his eyes and pinched his nose, trying desperately to remember, but facts that he devoted his life to learning just wouldn't come. There was a short pause before he said quietly. "I shouldn't be flying, not if I can't. . ." He paused again. "I think I'm going to go back to the cabin, see if I can lie down."

Douglas made no effort to hide his concern now. "OK, I'll get us home as quickly as I can."

Martin released his harness with some effort and pushed himself to standing. He managed about two steps before he collapsed to the floor.

"Martin," Douglas yelled, twisting around in his seat in time to see his friend fall "Martin!"

To be continued. . .


	2. Chapter 2

How Unlucky Can A Pilot Be?

Disclaimers: As chapter 1

Author's note: Hopefully this has broken my standing writer's block: Thanks to all who acknowledge this fic by favouriting or following and most especially thank you for reviews. They make me want to write more- J

Part 2

"Martin, what the hell?" Douglas tried to twist more but still couldn't get a proper view of his fellow pilot and friend. Damn, when had he started thinking of Martin as a friend and not just as someone he worked with? Scratch that there were more important things to deal with. "ATC this is Golf Echo Romeo Tango India. We have a serious medical emergency involving one of our pilots and would like to divert to the nearest airfield

The disembodied voice of Air Traffic control replied almost immediately "Roger, Golf Tango India. Standby. I'll coordinate." There was a brief pause." Golf Tango India please Divert to Cork airport where an ambulance will be waiting for you."

Douglas completed the air formalities of the diversion as quickly as he could, altering course and preparing for a priority landing almost by rote. There were times when he knew he appeared less than professional as a pilot, well, actually that was most of the time, but when it came to the crunch he was actually very good at what he did, and right now he was concentrating his considerable talent on getting the plane down as quickly as possible so that he could check on Martin. He hadn't liked the ashen tint to his friend's skin, nor the slight wheeze in his breathing even before he had collapsed behind his seat.

He pressed the button for the internal intercom, intending to get Carolyn onto the flight deck to help their ailing friend but before the familiar chimes had finished the door opened and she bussled in "Douglas why have we just changed course? What. . .Oh my God. . Martin!" She moved quickly to his side. "Douglas what happened? What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know," Douglas admitted. "He was heading back to the cabin to lie down but he just collapsed. I've diverted us back to Cork we should be landing in about 3 minutes. You should strap in."

"Not until I've checked on him." Carolyn said dropping not without some effort to her knees and placing her hand gently on Martin's forehead. "My God, he's burning up. What on earth? Oh God!"

"What?" Douglas questioned an uncharacteristically panicky tone to his voice. He desperately wanted to turn round to see what had led to Carolyn's exclamation but getting the plane onto the ground was demanding all of his attention at the moment. Final approach wasn't really the correct time to start looking at other things. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Carolyn stated, realizing as she glanced up that this wasn't the best time to distract Douglas from the rather important task of landing the plane. "It's nothing really."

"Carolyn," Douglas said dangerously, "Since I am about to land the sole asset of MJN air and it and the lives of all of its employees depend upon me doing that safely, I suggest that you don't make me turn round at this moment to see what that startled exclamation from a woman who wouldn't utter a startled exclamation if she heard that the Pope had converted to budhism and donated the Vatican's assets to promote the use of contraceptives, was about."

"OK, well remember how you teased Martin about the rather large bandage he'd strapped around his hand last night, I believe you compared it to, among other things, an oven glove."

"Yes," Douglas replied as he lined up on the runway, dropping airspeed and raising Gerti's nose.

"Well, as it turns out there was only a very small amount of bandage involved."

"What do you mean? His bandaged hand was three times the size it. . .Oh! Oh God!"

"Precisely," Carolyn said, staring with concerned dismay at Martin's swollen fingers.

"Mum," A cheerful voice chimed from the doorway. "Did you find out why we. . . .Oh no Skip! Mum what's wrong with Skip? Why is he on the floor and why is he holding those large sausages?"

"Oh Arthur," Carolyn turned to her son, a mixture of exasperation and concern crossed her features. She was really too worried to have to explain this to Arthur right now, but he would need it explaining to him, and in terms he could understand, because he could so easily get things wrong, fortunately most of the time he got things wrong in a positive way, protected from most of the pain in life by an inability to understand all of the things that made the rest of humanity live part of their lives in sorrow and misery. Sometimes she envied him that. Things were so simple in Arthur's world where 99 per cent of things were brilliant, but the one percent of things that weren't confused him so, and Carolyn was very much afraid that this was going to be one of those one percent situations. "Martin passed out, but we're going to land now and get him to the hospital so there's nothing to worry about. He'll be fine."

Arthur's features changed to an expression of terror. It was such a rarity for her son to have any expression other than a smile or blank look, that it took Carolyn a moment to register. So the keening "No, no, no, no, no, no, no." followed by "don't say that. Please don't say that," caught her completely off guard.

"What's wrong Arthur? I said there's nothing to worry about; he'll be fine." She repeated the sentence with conviction, even if she wasn't sure that it was true. She needed to reassure her son.

"No," Arthur was practically yelling now. "Don't say that. That's what you always say just before they. . . "

"Arthur. . ."Carolyn tried, reaching out towards him as he shook his head from side to side.

"No, you said that about Hammy and Gerbi and Twinkerbell and they all. . . each time you said it they. . ." There were tears in his eyes now as he glanced down at Martin and back up again. "So you can't say it about Skip because that would mean. . .No! You can't say that, don't say that because Skip is not going to. . ." Arthur was bordering on the hysterical now. "Don't. . He can't. . ."

"Arthur. . !" Carolyn shouted as her son turned and fled from the flight deck. It took her another moment to register the reassuring grip on her arm. She looked up to see Douglas looking down at her.

"You'd better go after him," Douglas said sympathetically, and if the whole situation wasn't so weird already she might have been disconcerted by a sympathetic Douglas, but instead she just asked. "What about. . ?" the gesture down to Martin was unnecessary but there.

"I'll look after him," Douglas stated, crouching and ready to take her place. "The paramedics are coming out to us. You go deal with Arthur."

"Thanks," Carolyn said more sincerely than she ever said anything and pushed herself to standing. With one last concerned glance at her stricken pilot. She turned to go and find and comfort her son and try and convince him that Martin wasn't going to die even if she wasn't a hundred per cent sure herself.

To Be Continued. . .


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:- See Part 1

Part 3

Douglas looked down with dismay at Martin's unconscious form, taking note of the swollen hand where Carolyn had removed the bandages. The area around the bee sting was a painful angry shade of red, clearly infected and, more worryingly, there was a dark line running up towards Martin's wrist. Douglas muttered a curse under his breath even as he continued to catalogue symptoms. Martin's breathing was coming in short pants, far too shallow and rapid and a thin sheen of sweat covered pale skin.

Douglas took off his jacket and rolled it into a makeshift pillow before lifting Martin's head and placing it carefully underneath. He moved his fingers to Martin's pulse point and began to count as he checked his watch but even before he got to the actual count he knew it was far too rapid. He swore softly again shaking his head; all of the symptoms were pointing to a single diagnosis and for once Douglas wished he wasn't quite so knowledgeable about something but unfortunately he still remembered his medical school training even after all this time which meant. . .

"Oh Martin," Douglas exclaimed exasperation colouring his tone. "Why didn't you say something?" He brushed the hair gently back from Martin's sweating forehead, not failing to feel the heat radiating from his skin and he bit his lip with concern. "Why didn't you tell us how bad it was?"

He could almost see the eye roll from the younger pilot and hear the reply dripping with sarcasm "Really Douglas? You're asking me why I didn't tell either you or Carolyn that I was actually very ill; that a bee sting had brought me to the point of collapse?" There would be a clear pause for effect at this point because Martin would know that Douglas would get the sarcasm. "Do you know I can't think why, because you're both so well known for your sympathy and understanding, and you would never think to make fun of someone who. . .Oh hang on, no, you did in fact spend more than half an hour making fun of me when I got the first aid kit out to deal with my injuries," It was still Martin's voice in his head but Douglas now knew that it was his own guilt that was getting the digs in. ". . . and then left me alone on the plane because the local guest house wasn't going to allow me to bring a goose and Carolyn wouldn't allow me to leave it on the plane unsupervised. Can't think why I didn't confide in . . . "

Douglas was pulled from his imaginings of Martin's answer by a genuine sound from his fellow pilot, a soft pain filled moan emitted as Martin shifted his infected arm, even the slight movement clearly producing pain that etched lines on his face. The pain caused him to shift again which only seemed to make things worse, the more he moved the more it hurt and the more it hurt the more he moved in reaction to the pain.

Douglas placed his hand firmly on the shoulder of the uninjured arm. "Hey hold still," he said keeping his voice clear and steady, because that was what he was trained to do, keep calm in a crisis, take control, and despite his sometimes best efforts at appearing otherwise, Douglas was good at remembering and following his training, when he wanted, needed to be. "Martin" He gripped both of the younger man's shoulder's and could feel the tremors in muscles that continued to twist uselessly in an effort to escape from the pain. "Captain Crieff," Douglas tried, hoping that the formality appealed to Martin's subconscious as much as it did to his conscious mind. He needed to get Martin to wake up, needed to keep him from hurting himself further because. . .God. . he was. . . "Martin, wake up!" Gratifyingly there was some response now as Martin's eyelids started to flutter open. Douglas almost sighed in relief.

"D. . Douglas" Martin's eyes opened and he blinked as he tried to bring a fuzzy confusing world into focus. Why was he asleep, why was Douglas holding him and waking. . .was he late? Had he fallen asleep while wait. . .? Weren't they flying? But if he was . . . and Douglas was. . He drew in a sharp agitated breath, shifting from confusion to panic in a too rapid heartbeat as he envisioned a pilotless Gertie plunging through the air with him and Douglas on the floor behind the pilot's seats. "Who's flying the plane. What are you. . ?"

Douglas noticed the shift as quickly as it was made. Oh good, panic that was all Martin's overtaxed systems needed, even Douglas's thought processes were annoyingly sarcastic at times. "It's Ok Martin, We're on the ground. We landed. All post landing checks complete."

"Post landing checks complete," Martin repeated automatically, looking up at Douglas. "We're on the ground?" he asked, sagging backwards as the adrenaline started to drain. "In Fitton?"

"On the Ground yes," Douglas replied. "In Fitton no, didn't quite make it back as one of the pilots decided to face plant onto the flight deck shortly after take-off, and, call me old fashioned if you like, but in those circumstances I decided it might be better to. . .oh I don't know declare a medical emergency and land at the nearest airport."

"Oh," Martin said, "So we diverted back to. . ."

"Back to Cork," Douglas supplied. "Ambulance crew are on the way, they should be here soon and then. . ."

"Ambulance?" Martin shook his head. "No I don't need an ambulance I'm not. ."

Martin made a move to sit up once again and it was ridiculously and simultaneously worryingly easy for Douglas to stop the movement. As he suspected the younger man had no idea just how seriously ill he was and until it became necessary Douglas wasn't about to tell him "Now you know as well as I do," Douglas stated, "That having passed out in flight, you won't be allowed to fly again without being checked over by a doctor. So just relax and let the ambulance crew check you out when they get here."

Martin gave a slight nod and then shivered.

"Cold?" Douglas asked.

"Freezing," Martin admitted.

"Hold on," Douglas stated moving away before returning moments later with a blanket which he placed gently over Martin's shivering form.

"Oh God! Am I dying?" Martin asked.

Douglas allowed a small twitch before schooling his face to neutral. "Why on earth would you ask that?"

Martin had meant the comment as a joke and hadn't expected the reaction from Douglas, brief though it was. "Because you're being nice to me," he followed through with the next line anyway because what else could he do? But hang on a minute Douglas's reaction meant he thought. . .For the first time since he'd come round Martin tried to catalogue exactly how bad he was feeling. Yes he was sick, he'd known that since he'd woken that morning, stiff and hot and achy, slightly nauseous and dizzy but it was just a bad cold, maybe the flu maybe. . .

"Martin! Martin!" Douglas's voice sounded concerned as though he'd been calling to him more than. . .He returned his focus to his friend but his vision was blurring in and out and his head was pounding and it was so hard to.. . . to. . .

"Douglas," Martin gripped his friend's arm with his good hand and held his gaze for a moment, forcing a concentration that was almost beyond him. "Am I dying?" he asked quietly.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:- John Finnemore is a genius, the actors, director and producers that bring these characters to life are incredible. This piece is written as an homage to all of them and for no other purpose.

**Chapter 4 Arthur Logic**

Carolyn moved carefully through the galley into the passenger cabin. Years of experience had taught her that dealing with an upset Arthur was a bit like dealing with a frightened animal. Any approach needed to be quiet and non-threatening, as sudden noises or quick movements would inevitably result in further flight and sometimes the cramming of small Arthur's into small impossible to get at places, because, despite his lack of intellect and sometimes clumsiness, Arthur was very adept at finding and crawling into hiding places when he didn't want to be found. Carolyn was only glad that Arthur had turned out to have such a robust positive nature because had he combined a quiet sullen nature with his hiding skill she was convinced that she would have had to spend the better part of his childhood looking for and or rescuing him from whatever place he had decided to hide in.

Fortunately Arthur was very rarely upset, still she had enough experience to know that she needed to tread very carefully if she wanted to avoid a situation where, as well as dealing with a very sick pilot, they would also have to help search for an upset Arthur around Cork airport, a place which no doubt held many unsuitable hiding places for her son to find and squeeze himself into.

She took a few cautious steps between the rows of seats, noting from the slightly hitched breathing that she could now hear; that he had only gone as far as the last row of seats, squeezing himself on the floor between the rows with his back pressed to the fuselage and his knees drawn up in front of him. He seemed to be at that stage where the tears were falling but you hadn't quite reached sobbing yet because you were still trying to convince yourself that whatever it was wasn't that upsetting. Carolyn thought for a moment because really the best place for talking would be kneeling in front of her son with her eyes at his level but she was fairly sure that neither her knees nor her back were up to it and so she carefully lowered herself into the aisle seat and considered what she should say.

She clearly needed to put this into Arthur logic and the fact that she hadn't so far was a testament to how worried she was. Not that she would let anyone know that of course. Carolyn had learnt at an early age that no one actually cared about her emotions and expressing them usually had negative consequences so she had learnt to suppress them, so successfully that at times she really did question if she felt them any more, but of course deep down she knew she did because if she didn't then her heart wouldn't be breaking at that moment at the confused tearful sorrow clouding her son's features.

So, Arthur logic then, clearly telling Arthur that Martin would be fine made him believe the opposite. In Arthur's world those words were used about all of his favourite pets and then they hadn't been fine at all, in fact they had died. So to Arthur it was therefore a logical conclusion that being told someone would be fine and that there was no need to worry meant that they would in fact. . .

"Arthur," Carolyn stated his name strongly enough to get him to look up. "I was wrong; Martin is not going to be fine."

Arthur gave a sniff. "He won't?" he asked hopefully.

"No, no he won't," Carolyn confirmed. "In fact he's very ill and he's going to have to go to the hospital."

"And we do need to worry?" Arthur clarified.

"Yes, yes we very much need to worry Arthur."

Arthur stared at her for a moment. "And you're not just saying that to make me feel better?" he asked.

"No Arthur I'm not. Martin is gravely ill and the ambulance will be here any moment so we really should. . ." but she was cut off by an armful of Arthur who was giving her a hug.

"Thanks mum," Arthur mumbled into her clothing. "I'm so glad Skip's not going to die."

Carolyn bit back the sigh, only in a world filled with Arthur logic could what she had just said be considered good news and all she could hope was that Arthur logic or not she hadn't given her son false hope because . . .

No, if she wasn't letting Arthur go there then she wouldn't either. "Come on let's get the door open ready for the ambulance crew." She said giving Arthur one last reassuring squeeze because he needed it, not for herself. No, Carolyn Knapp-Shapey didn't need reassurance, not at all.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

"Douglas?" Martin's questioning tone was breathy but nonetheless clear, he expected an answer.

Brilliant Richardson, perfect time for you to let your guard down and lose your legendary ability at obfuscation and deceit! Douglas knew that he'd let too much show in his expression, if just for a moment, when Martin had asked if he was dying, because yes, if what he suspected was true then Martin was suffering from sepsis and was just one drop in blood pressure away from septic shock and if he got that far, then even the best medical care would struggle to save him. So Martin's question had taken him by surprise, voicing his fears even in jest was just a little too much for him to catch, but that didn't mean he couldn't be angry with himself because God, at this moment in time it would not help Martin to know.

He met Martin's gaze, lamenting the fact that it was also a lousy time for his young counterpart to become perceptive enough to notice his lapse, particularly since it was obvious the infection was really starting to take hold and, if the pinking of his cheeks and glassiness of his eyes was anything to go by, then his temperature was spiking. A healthy Martin would have been lucky to catch the slip so how come a sick, fevered. . .

"Don't be ridiculous," Douglas stated strongly, having clearly made the decision while his mind was berating itself to settle back to his default position of confident untruth. "I know you try hard Martin but even you would have difficulty killing yourself with a bee sting and some rain. Anaphylaxis aside that is, which you clearly don't have or you wouldn't have even made it back to the airport yesterday before your throat would have swollen closed."

Martin swallowed reflexively before taking another shallow breath. "Thanks for that image," he stated softly.

"Yes well, you're clearly not allergic to bee stings which, I admit, could be fatal if you were, so all we're dealing with is a little infection that's knocked a bit of your stuffing out. Some antibiotics, a bit of rest and you'll be fine."

Martin tried to study his friend, tried to tell if he was telling the truth, even though he knew that was a lost cause because Douglas was so good at lying that Martin hardly ever. . . so why did he doubt. . .emotion! That was it; he had seen a fleeting but very real fear in Douglas's eyes and that was something that he couldn't fake, couldn't lie his way away from, and if Douglas was afraid then Martin knew that he should be too, because fear wasn't an emotion Douglas Richardson expressed ever, even when they were landing on one engine in crosswinds onto an icy runway with Martin piloting, Douglas had looked confident until they were on the ground. It was that sure confidence that had helped Martin keep his nerve, but he knew that he had seen fear in Douglas's eyes. "So everything is fine?" Martin asked.

"Perfectly," Douglas replied.

"And you," Martin seemed to drift for a moment.

"Martin" Douglas called him back, somewhat relieved when Martin's drifting consciousness focussed back on him.

"You wouldn't lie to me?" Martin managed to finish.

"No reason to," Douglas assured. Douglas's inner sarcastic commentator decided to drop in a 'why not, you've never needed a reason before,' but he ignored it. "You're going to be fine."

"Then," Martin had to pause in order to drag in enough air. "Why are you afraid?"

Douglas's inner commentator reeled off a long string of colourful expletives that only a seasoned pilot of 30+ years could have picked up from a truly international selection of dives, gambling houses, hotels and brothels. Meanwhile the rest of his consciousness was struggling for the correct response, confirmation or denial. Try for more reassurance with untrue platitudes or tell Martin just how scared he was? Just how big a fight he was in for just to stay alive? Could he do that before the doctors had confirmed his suspicions, maybe he was wrong, maybe Martin wasn't. . .

He was saved from having to make any further decisions in the worst way possible as Martin's eyes rolled back into his head and his body began to violently convulse, jerking back in the most violent of ways as muscles spasmed throughout his body.

Douglas didn't even notice that some of those colourful expletives were now escaping in half formed words from his lips as he scrambled to cushion Martin from hurting himself further on the harsh metal structures of the cabin. He was barely aware of anything beyond himself and Martin, so it came as something of a shock when strong hands gripped him and pulled him back away from Martin as a young man in full green uniform moved in to take his place.

His mind connected enough to realise that he now had to leave the fate of his friend to the professionals. They had him, were administering oxygen and fluid and drugs and asking Douglas clipped questions which he somehow managed to answer through the haze, as though a separate part of him was doing that because the majority of his consciousness was now focussed on a single question as he asked himself over and over if he should have told Martin the truth, because that could be the last thing that he ever said to him, and after everything they had been through together he didn't want to end it all on a lie, even if he had good intentions, which was more than could be said for some of his lies, but why should he. . .

"Here," Carolyn said handing him a tissue.

He stared at it for a moment before looking questioningly at his boss.

"You appear to have something in your eye," she answered his unspoken question softly and if it weren't Carolyn he would have even said kindly.

"Thank you," he stated before turning away from her to wipe his face as he realised for the first time that he had been crying.

To be continued. . .


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note:- apologies for the delay in posting which was due entirely to the pressures of work. There's a little humour mixed in with the angst here. Hope you enjoy. J

Part 6

Parking Gerti in a more permanent stand and clearing from airside to groundside didn't take as long as it would have done if they had left Irish airspace but it still seemed to be an intolerably long process for all of MJN air's crew. Well all bar one, the only one who didn't have to endure the formalities was the one concern about whom stretched seconds and minutes to almost unendurable length. Martin had left quickly, urgently, engines revving, blue lights flashing and sirens blaring, a stereo show of light and sound from ambulance and escort, and didn't that make it all the worse for those left behind to a screaming silence and a mind numbing familiarity of procedures before they too could exit the airport, and more importantly before they too could follow their stricken colleague.

Douglas finally returned to an impatient Carolyn and a bouncing Arthur. Douglas hadn't seen Arthur worried very often and so had failed to notice how it made the younger man bounce. It was as if he was on a small invisible pogo stick, anxiety expressing itself in movement and instead of the small scale tapping of feet or fingers that was a sign of stress amongst most ordinary people, Arthur's anxiety encompassed a tapping of his entire body.

"Well," Carolyn snapped, her anxiety expressing itself in impatience, or was that just Carolyn's default setting. "Did you get one?"

"Yes, and I'm sorry," Douglas replied, handing the keys over.

"Sorry?" Carolyn questioned, taking the keys and handing them to Arthur, whom they had agreed should be forced to focus his excess energy on something other than bouncing, driving for example. "Whatever are you sorry for?"

"There's some sort of festival on so there wasn't a lot of choice of cars and I'm afraid. . . "Douglas gestured behind Carolyn to where the vehicle was being driven up for them from the parking lot just in time to hear Arthur's

"Yellow car."

"Dear God," Carolyn gasped focussing her attention back on Douglas. "This could be as bad as that time we went to New York and had to blindfold him for the entire drive down Fifth Avenue so that he didn't give himself an aneurism trying to keep track of all the yellow cabs."

"Well to be fair Carolyn, he won't have any trouble keeping track of this one because he'll be driving it."

"Yes but in Arthur's world he has to say yellow car every time he sees a yellow car."

"But surely only once for each yellow car he sees and he's already said it for this one."

"Oh no, each time Arthur loses sight of the car he must say it again when he sees the car again. That is one of the unwritten rules of yellow car."

"Aren't all of the rules of yellow car unwritten," Douglas mumbled.

"Pardon?" Carolyn asked.

"Nothing," Douglas stated, "But surely he will still only say 'yellow car' once for this car."

Carolyn sighed in frustration and resisted the temptation to pinch the bridge of her nose because she was saving it, sure that it was a gesture she would need before the day was our. "Have you ever tried to watch the car that you in whilst driving Douglas because, trust me, I have had the unfortunate privilege of driving in a yellow car with Arthur before. Admittedly that time I was driving and he was the passenger but even so. The colour of the car is not obvious as you lose sight of it when on a flat road until that is you go over a bump or over a hill or into a dip and then it bounces up to greet you and a little voice chirps 'yellow car' and then it disappears again until the next bump at which point. . ."

"Yellow car," Douglas intoned dryly "Yes I get the picture. In which case I'm even more sorry than I was when I handed you the keys that this was all they had left."

"Mum, Douglas," Arthur shouted, his head now hanging out of the car window, "aren't you going to get in we need to get to the hospital."

And just like that their thoughts were dragged back from a moment of ridiculousness, which passed for normal in their world to the serious, which hardly ever intruded and thus made it all the harsher now. They shared a frequently repeated, in the last hour at least, glance of concern and hurried to get in the car. Shutting the doors just in time for Arthur to pull his head back in and say, "yellow car."

CPCPCPCPCPCPCP

"That was brilliant," Arthur said, "well," and his face changed to an uncharacteristic frown, "apart from the fact that we were on the way to the hospital because Skip is sick and that bit well that bit isn't. . ." Arthur paused, trying to formulate his thoughts and feelings about what had happened.

"Yes, Arthur we know," Carolyn said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, "Martin being ill is not at all brilliant, we know that."

"No, it isn't is it?" Arthur stated more than asked. He looked at Carolyn. "We'll just have to rent a yellow car when Skip is better and then it can be properly brilliant."

Carolyn managed to bite back the sigh and the automatic, 'no never again, never, and especially not on roads with any turns or dips or bumps or. . . Instead she just said, "Yes of course we will Arthur. Now do you want to find us all some coffee while Douglas and I try to find out how Martin's doing?"

"Ok," Arthur said, happily disappearing in search of beverages. It really was a blessing that he never realised when he was being sent on an errand to get him out of the way. He remained blissfully unaware of ulterior motives.

"I'll see what I can find out," Carolyn stated looking round to locate the reception area. She was about to turn away when she felt Douglas's hand on her arm, under normal circumstances she would have snatched her own arm away, under normal circumstances he wouldn't have dared take such a liberty, but circumstances were far from normal so after a brief glance at his hand she looked up and met Douglas' gaze. "I'm sure he'll be fine," he stated in his smoothest most confidence inspiring first officer's, well okay more like a Captain's really much to Martin's chagrin, tones.

"Yes," Carolyn replied slightly hoarsely, "I'm sure you're right." She patted his hand where it rested on her arm and then pulled away, as they each took as much comfort as they could from the lie they had just told each other.

To Be Continued. . . .


End file.
